Carly was a smart girl, and I had to trust she was exercising that intelligence. Even in an ass-baring dress.
“You’re sure you don’t want to skip partying with a bunch of chicks and come hang out with your sister and me and Slater? When we invited you, it wasn’t to serve as chef, you know.”
“I know, but I couldn’t let Slater cook for you guys. You’d get ptomaine.” Her grin reminded me so much of Mia—and was such a surprising resemblance in a face that looked nothing like her older sister’s—that I caught myself smiling back. “I’m most bummed I won’t get
to meet the new girl.” She frowned and sealed the lid on her travel food container. “I hope she’s better than the last five have been.”
“You’d think he would learn.” Taking advantage of her dismay over Slater’s heretofore dismal love life, I inched my pinky under the cellophane in hopes of dislodging the corner of a cookie. “It’s a damn shame.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t be smug just because you’ve been coupled up since the beginning of time. And drop that cookie, you thief.” She whirled on me and karate chopped the air, her hand stopping just above mine where it was shoved under the cellophane. “You are going to eat my casserole, and you’re going to like it.”
“I can eat both.”
“Pfft.” She grabbed the plate, reattached the cellophane, and then placed all of her covered dishes into a large handled bag. “Here. Be careful with this.” She whipped off her apron, hung it on a hook and scurried toward the bedroom. “I’ve gotta get ready. Have fun,” she called.
Five minutes later, she ran back through and banged the front door shut behind her.
Shaking my head, I tugged out my phone to text Mia. She had an afternoon shift Vinnie’s, but she was due back anytime. Just as I was about to send my message, the buzzer sounded.
Expelling a breath, I went to the intercom. “Forget your keys?” I asked, hoping like hell it was Mia or her sister. I so didn’t want to deal with anyone else tonight.
“It’s me, Tray. Can I come up?”
My mother. Fabulous.
“Yeah.” I buzzed her in and pressed my forehead against the intercom. I had too much shit on my mind already to handle this too, especially when we had an afternoon appointment at my father’s law firm tomorrow.
She knocked a moment later and I pulled open the door, already preparing to brush her off. I couldn’t keep opening myself up to her and getting shut down.
The small powder blue suitcase in her hand made me clamp my lips closed.
“I left him.” She lifted her tear-stained face. “I don’t know where else to go.”
The jangle of keys up the hall dragged my focus from my mother to Mia’s arrival. She stopped halfway up the hall and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. I can go—”
“It’s your place,” I said shortly to Mia, stepping into the hallway to hold out an arm to her. “And we have plans tonight.”
It wasn’t easy watching my mother’s chin crumple, but I wasn’t willing to jump feet first into hope so easily. Not again. Then there was the little problem that for fucking once, I needed my father’s help on Mia’s behalf. If my mother was taking off on my dad, he wasn’t going to be reciprocal toward Mia’s plight.
I wanted my mother away from him. Safe. Whole. But that didn’t mean I knew what to do with her tears—or her suitcase.
“Tray,” Mia chided, moving forward to take my mother’s suitcase. Something I hadn’t thought to do. “Mrs. Knox, please come in. Sit down.”
My mother shot me a speculative look. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and guided her inside while taking a surreptitious glance at my watch. Normally I wasn’t Mr. Social Engagement, but I needed to talk strategy with Slater tonight about Mia’s fight. We were running out of time. Friday was five fucking days away.
I couldn’t spend another evening under the false assumption my mother was really going to leave. How many times had I fallen for that hat trick? Too many, and I had too much else going on right now that demanded my full attention.
The situation with my parents would be there next week. As it always was, eternally.
“I’m sorry, you’re busy.” My mother perched on the edge of the couch. “I just thought Tray would like to know that I…well, that I’ve left his father.”
“We’ll see.” The door left my hand and slammed shut.
Mia cut me a glance. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“No, she’s not. Anyone would be thrilled to hear that if they had any inkling of what that bastard put you through all these years.” I leaned against the door and crossed my arms. “If this was actually happening, I’d dance a fucking jig.”
After tomorrow—after we’d gotten the information we needed from my father. I might’ve been mercenary, but I was my father’s son. And Mia came first, always.